National Day Of
by clair beaubien
Summary: Dean's bored and he found a list of "National Day of..." website. Set vaguely S9, just because.
1. Chapter 1

"Peanut butter." Dean said, reading from his computer screen. "My birthday is National Peanut Butter Day. I don't think peanut butter is a match. Mom should've had me a day earlier. National Pie Day."

"I don't know, it seems appropriate." Sam answered. "Peanut butter is after all a nut that's been put through a grinder…"

He grinned and Dean glared and went back to his computer.

"Eww - November 2nd is _Deviled_ Egg Day. How appropriate."

Sam only '_hmmm'd'_ and kept reading his book.

"Hey - September 18th is National Cheeseburger Day." Dean announced. "Very appropriate for me."

Sam looked over at the computer screen.

"It's also National Play-Dough Day. Also appropriate for you."

Dean glared and grumbled and soon started to laugh.

"Do I even want to know?" Sam asked.

"May 2nd - guess. You'll never guess. Go ahead and guess."

"National Put Up With Your Bored Big Brother Day?"

Dean started to protest, then tilted his head in reluctant agreement.

"Okay, so May 2nd is also Big Brother Day - but guess what food day it is. Go ahead. Guess."

Sam shrugged and shook his head.

"I give."

Dean grinned and spun his computer so Sam could fully see the screen.

"It's Mousse Day! National Chocolate Mousse Day. I know what we're having for dessert on your birthday from now on, Moose."

Sam only turned a page in his book and said, "October 8th."

"October 8th, what?" Dean asked, and typed it into his google. "National Face Your Fears Day or - oh, very funny. National Stop Being Annoying Day. Very, very, funny."

Sam laughed and set his book down. "March 10th, definitely your day. I'm going for coffee." He was out the door before Dean had found the date and day on the web.

"March 10th," He muttered to himself. "I can only imagine. It's probably - oh. Oh."

He left his computer and headed out to catch up with Sam.

_March 10th - National Day of Awesomeness. _

_._


	2. August 5th

"SAM! WAKE UP!"

Sam was shocked awake by the sound of Dean shouting for him and pounding on his bedroom door.

"Dean - what? What happened?"

"Get dressed - we have to get going."

"Going where?" Sam asked as he pushed himself upright and gathered the strength to get out of bed and get dressed. "What happened?"

"Just get dressed. I'll explain on the way."

"Dean - what? Where are we going?" Sam looked at his watch. "Is it really only five? Dean - "

"Five in the afternoon."

"Yeah, and we only got back home at noon and I've only been asleep four hours."

"Four hours is all you need." Dean said. "All right, Mr. Delicate. I'll go without you and bring it back."

"Go _where_?" Sam asked, exhausted and confused. "Bring _what_?"

"Go to the store." "Bring back refreshments."

"Refreshments?"

"Liquid refreshments." Dean said like that explained everything, until Sam gave him his patented, '_too tired to drag it out of you, man'_ look.

Dean sighed.

"Sam - it's August fifth. It's National Beer Day!"

He looked like he expected an enthusiastic reaction but Sam only collapsed back onto his bed.

"National Beer Day. Ugh."

Dean shrugged and turned to leave.

"Don't forget pretzels." Sam called after him.

##


	3. August 6th

"Sam - c'mon."

"No."

"You know you want to."

"No."

"Sam."

"No."

Cas watched the exchange with some puzzlement. They were at the long table in the Men of Letters' Library. Sam was attempting to keep his attention on his computer. Dean had obtained a chair with wheels and was rolling himself back and forth behind Sam, importuning him to some unknown purpose.

"It's a National Day, Sam. We have to celebrate it." Dean said. "I'm doing it right now."

"Good for you."

"_C'mon, Sammy_…" Dean inveigled, as though trying to coax a small child. "_You can do it…_"

Sam shut his computer with some force and stared at Dean for several seconds.

"There. I did it. Happy?" He stood up and marched away, clearly not happy. "I'm going to make lunch."

"I don't understand." Cas said. "What just happened? What National Day are you celebrating?"

Dean grinned.

"August sixth. National Wiggle Your Toes Day."

##


	4. August 8th

"All right. Back to the Bunker." Dean said, as he slung his duffle over his shoulder. He opened the motel room door to walk outside - and immediately tripped over a brown paper bag full of something that was sitting on the threshold.

Sam hurried over to him. "Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah." Dean said, standing up and brushing himself off. "What the hell is this?"

There was a note taped to the bag and Sam pulled it off to read it.

"Ha!" He burst out with a laugh a second later. He turned the note to Dean. "Happy _'Leave Zucchini On Your Neighbor's Doorstep'_ Day!"

Dean fumed a few seconds, then scooped the bag up to put into the trunk of the car.

"….there's a zucchini bread recipe I can use these for…" he muttered.

Sam didn't say a word.

##


	5. August 10th

"Dean –"

"No."

"But – "

"No."

"I have – "

"No."

"But there's a lot –"

"No."

Sam growled in frustration and rested his head back against the windshield. It was early morning. They were parked at a lake, somewhere in Virginia. They were both sitting stretched out on the hood, under the bright sun. Dean had his sunglasses on his face and his arms crossed under his head. Sam had research in his mind and paybacks in his plans.

"Dean –"

"No."

"_DEAN_. I don't care if it's 'National Be Lazy Day', there's research I should be doing."

With a sigh, Dean pulled his sunglasses down his nose and turned to Sam.

"Only a little while longer, Sammy. I got bigger plans for the rest of today."

"Plans? What plans? What other National Day could this _possibly_ be?"

Dean smiled as he pushed his sunglasses back up and laid his head back again.

"National Smithsonian Day, Geek Boy. National Smithsonian Day."

"What? I – you – really? Sam was confused then surprised then amazed. "_Really?_"

"Really, Sam." Dean said. He reached into the paper bag next to himself and pulled something out to give to Sam. "So, relax and have another slice of zucchini bread."

##


	6. August 12th

A quiet afternoon. Sam was on his computer at the library table. Dean had his feet up on the table, reading a magazine.

Suddenly, Sam shouted "Yes!"

"Yes?" Dean asked.

Sam looked up, looking all kinds of busted.

"Yyyes…I need the keys."

"For?"

"Forrrrr…" Sam dragged out, a sure sign that Dean was about to be lied to or bullshitted. "For the car."

Door #2.

"Of _course_ for the car, genius. What do you need the car _for_?"

"Toooo – drive somewhere?" Sam quite obviously didn't explain, eyebrows high in his best fake innocent expression.

Dean sighed and dug the keys out of his pocket.

"Y'know, Sammy. The way you evade questions, it's a wonder we don't get arrested for impersonating Feds more often than we do."

He tossed the keys to Sam who caught them mid-air and hurried toward the stairs up to the front door and was gone.

Dean went back to his magazine, laughing to himself a little. It was amazing how Sam Winchester, Evil's Worst Nightmare, for all his size and strength, could still be a little brother sometimes.

About an hour later, the front door opened and Sam came hurrying back down the stairs. He had a thin square package wrapped in brown paper in his hands and he brought it to Dean.

"Here."

"Here what?" Dean asked, suspiciously.

"Here, here." Sam repeated, pushing it at Dean.

"Okay…" Dean took the package and gingerly unwrapped it, wondering what it might be.

In another minute, he was practically speechless in surprise. Five albums, Sam had gotten him five of the top classic rock albums in actual record albums.

"Sammy – where did you get these? Zeppelin IV, Dark Side of the Moon, Paranoid, Back in Black, Graffiti? Where did you get these?"

Sam was grinning.

"There's a vintage record shop not far out of town. I asked them to keep a look out. They got the last one in today. Fortunately today."

"Today? Why? What's today? What're these for?"

Sam's grinned deepened.

"August 12th – Happy National Vinyl Record Day."

##


	7. August 13th

Cas observed the scene before him. Sam was reading a book at the small map table in the bunker. Research, undoubtedly. Dean, however was slumped at the table, resting his head in the crook of his arm, staring disconsolately at nothing.

"What is wrong with Dean?" Cas asked.

"He's unhappy because it's National Left-Handed Day and he can't think of any way to celebrate it."

Dean didn't say anything, he only sighed deeply.

Cas was confused.

"Surely he knows that it's also National Filet Mignon day."

As soon as he said that, Dean perked right up.

"It is? It's steak day?"

"Well, the word steak tends to imply beef," Cas said. "And in some restaurants 'filet mignon' can also mean pork. But in the general understand of the term, yes, it does refer to beef."

Dean shot to his feet.

"Grab your crap, Sammy. We're going to dinner."

"It's only four p.m." Sam told him.

"Good, then we beat the crowds."

Sam shook his head but smiled. He shut his book and stood up to follow Dean.

"You too, Cas." Dean called over his shoulder. "Get a move on. There's beef out there I have to celebrate."

##

A/N: I'm published for real! It's a brand new story of a young soldier with PTSD and how his family deals with it. It's called **Dead Spot** and it's been published by the online journal **RedFez, Issue 59**. Go to: redfez dot net (/) fiction (/) 533 (/) 0

If you read it, let me know what you think!


	8. August 15th

Weather – calm.

Bat Cave – clean.

Evening – quiet.

TV – used.

DVD player – new.

Little Brother – stressed with research and in need of a diversion.

Big Brother – always with a plan in mind.

"Hey, what d'you say I make some popcorn and we watch 'Star Trek'?" Dean asked. Sam lifted his head from where he was resting it on his hand on the table in the library. He had a massive book in front of himself, but he hadn't turned a page in fifteen minutes.

"You go ahead, I'll just -."

"Great!" Dean interrupted. He reached right in front of Sam and slammed the book shut, then grabbed Sam's shoulders and propelled him to his feet. "It's all set up and waiting in the TV room."

"TV room? We have a TV room? When did that happen?"

"The last time you were glued to your computer for thirteen hours straight. You know – _today_. C'mon."

Sam let himself be led – _pushed_ – to the room near the bedroom hallway that had the oh-so-helpful sign 'lounge' over its doorway. As though the club chairs, foot stools, and ash trays hadn't been enough of a clue.

"All right, where are you going to sit? Right there? Good." Dean didn't wait for an answer; he pushed Sam to the overstuffed, leather-upholstered chair that had pillow, blanket, and footstool all ready and waiting for him.

"Dean - I don't need - "

"Shh. Sit. Movie's gonna start."

"The movie can't start until you - "

"_Shhhh_."

Sam sighed but barely resisted when Dean pushed him into the chair then waved his hand for Sam to put his feet up on the footstool, which Sam did. He drew the line, however, at Dean putting the blanket over him.

"Thanks. I'm fine without it."

"You sure?"

Sam sighed again.

"_Yes, Dean."_

Dean shrugged and muttered, "Yeah, fine, all right." He set a huge bowl of popcorn in Sam's lap and an opened bottle of beer on the table next to him, then got comfy in his own chair with his own beer & popcorn. The movie was queued up and he hit "play" on the remote to get it started.

Sam only lasted a few minutes.

"Dean, didn't we just do this the other day? In Virginia? What're we doing it again for?"

"Nah. That was National Lazy Day. This is National Relaxation Day. So, relax_._"

"Dean - "

"_Relax_."

Sam gave in with a grump and ate his popcorn while the Star Trek bad guy attacked the Star Trek good guy.

"Hey," Dean asked. "Doesn't that guy look like Osiris?"

##

A/N: apparently the other day I completely goofed up the link to my new original story which has been published by the online journal Red Fez. The url is RedFez d0t net slash fiction slash 533 slash 0. The name of the story is Dead Spot, and it's under my real name. The story is about a young soldier returned from Afghanistan with PTSD. Thanks for reading!


	9. August 16th

August 16th.

National Men's Grooming Day.

Should Dean tell Sam?

Dean was in the Bunker kitchen when Sam grumbled in like a bear who got woke up out of hibernation too early. It was late morning but he was still in his pajamas, he was on his third day of 5 o'clock shadow and his bed head looked like it'd slept in every bed in the place.

Should Dean tell him what today was?

Sam didn't even acknowledge Dean; he went straight for the mugs and the coffee maker.

"Uh - you know, Sam," Dean decided to try. "Today is National -"

That was as far as he got.

"Yeah, I know." Sam said as he filled his mug with caffeine. He didn't even look at Dean. "It's also National Airborne Day. You feel like celebrating _that?_"

His tone made Dean think Sam wasn't talking about flying in a plane.

Dean didn't bother answering and Sam grumbled his way out of the kitchen and back to his bedroom again.

##

A/N: I know I risk being annoying here, but the site where my story is published ranks each story by how many times it's read. Yesterday I was the #1 story of my issue, and the #1 story for the week of all the stories they've published. (Thank you to everyone who read it!) Today I'm the #2 story. If you haven't read my story yet (or even just clicked on the page) you can find it at: redfez (d0t) net slash fiction slash 533 slash 0 The story is Dead Spot and it's under my other real name. Thank you!


	10. August 17th

August 17th

"But Sam – c'mon. You could use some new clothes. You can check out the books, I'll check out the records. We'll have fun."

"I need to research."

"No, you _want_ to research. There's a difference." Dean turned to Cas. "Tell him he needs to take a break from research, will you?"

"Is this another 'National Day Of'?" Cas asked. "You do seem to enjoy those."

"Yes, it's 'National Thrift Store Day', and I want to celebrate. C'mon, Sam. A few hours away from the books won't kill you."

"You're right." Sam agreed, changing his mind so quickly, it actually worried Dean. "We should celebrate the National Days Of. Let's go. Cas? You wanna come see a thrift store?"

He moved towards the stairs and Dean felt a chill go down his spine.

"What're you planning, Sammy?"

"Me? Nothing. We're celebrating National Day Of, right? I'm planning to celebrate the day. The _whole_ day. C'mon."

The three of them walked out of the bunker and to the car, as Dean ran over the other categories that today was the 'National Day Of…'

_Geocaching Day? _Dean wasn't even sure what that was.

_Vanilla Custard Day._ Not very lethal.

_Homeless Animals Day. _Okay, that one was a possibility, if Sam happened upon some lost, abandoned, neglected animal. But still not threat-worthy.

It hit Dean just as they were getting into the car and Sam said,

"Hey, Cas. Did you know that today is also –"

"Sammy, don't you dare!" Dean said.

"What is today?" Cas asked.

Sam smiled and gave Dean a 'you asked for it' look.

"Today is also the National Day Of _Discuss the Meaning of 'Is' Day_, Cas."

"Really?" Cas asked. "That is a most extraordinary concept. Did you know that the word itself is over eleven hundred years old? It is from the same language or form as the Dutch is, Old Norse es and er, the German or Gothic ist, Latin est, Greek estí, OCS jestĭ, Sanskrit asti…"

"That's great!" Sam enthused. "Why don't you sit in the front seat so you and Dean can discuss it on the way to the thrift store?"

Dean wondered how soon "National Decapitation Day" was coming up.

##

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read my original story "Dead Spot" published in Red Fez. I'm the #1 read story of my issue, the #1 read story today of all the stories they've published, the #2 read story this week of all the stories they've ever published and the #3 most read story of all they've published this month. And it was only published on Tuesday. THANK YOU!


	11. August 20th

August 20th

The day ended quiet and peacefully, with the beginnings of a spectacularly colorful sunset gathering at the horizon over the far end of waving field of wheat. Dean sat in an aluminum lawn chair with his feet up on the middle rail of a split rail fence at the edge of the field. The Impala stood next to him, driver's door open, radio playing low. The cooler was at his feet, he had a plate in his lap and a paper cup in his hand.

Behind him, across the rutted country road, and little ways down, Sam and Cas sat on the top rail of a matching split rail fence.

"Why aren't you sharing this day with Dean?" Cas asked Sam.

"Oh, Dean's had a hard few days. He needs a break."

"From you?"

"Sometimes _especially_ from me."

"But you are the one person Dean loves more than anyone or anything on earth, in heaven or in hell."

"Ha – sometimes the more you love somebody, the more annoying they can be. Especially spending all day, every day, together, for months at a time. Or years." Sam jumped down from the fence. "C'mon, let's take a walk, give him some space."

Together, Sam and Cas walked down the muddy road, into the gathering sunset.

"What day is it today?" Cas asked.

"National Day of radio, lemonade, and chocolate pecan pie." Sam told him. "Of course, for Dean, it's _hard_ lemonade, but he enjoys celebrating National Days Of."

"And you enjoy that Dean enjoys them."

Sam looked back over his shoulder at Dean, eating pie, drinking hard lemonade, and listening to classic rock music, relaxing for the first time in days.

"Yes, I do."

##

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read my original story "Dead Spot" published in Red Fez. I'm the #1 read story of my issue. THANK YOU!


	12. August 22nd

August 22nd

Sam woke up in the back seat of the Impala, twisted around to fit the never-going-to-be-big-enough-again space. The sky was dark and the car was empty and he pushed himself into the coolness outside.

They were parked at some sort of scenic overlook. Cas stood at the very edge of the overlook, head tilted to the side, looking into the reds, oranges, and pinks that painted the clouds that blanketed the sun.

Dean was sitting on the hood of the car, apparently watching Cas watch the - what?

"Is it sunrise or sunset?" Sam asked over a yawn as he took a seat next to Dean on the hood.

"Sunrise, Sleeping Beauty." Dean said with no snark. "We've been here a couple hours waiting for it."

"Waiting for the sunrise? Why? What's going on?"

Dean sighed.

"August 22nd." He said. "_Be an angel day."_

The End


	13. August 31st

August 31st

"What's this?" Dean asked, following Sam up the stairs and out to the Impala parked in front of the Bunker. There was a towel spread on the hood of the car, and two plates with sandwiches and two bottles of beer.

"It's National Bacon Day, and National Eat Outside Day." Sam said. "We're celebrating."

Since Dean's fascination with "National Days Of" had started, Sam had begun his own research into the list of days. Some of that was to not get caught in something embarrassing, but mostly it was to find days that Dean would enjoy celebrating and make sure they got celebrated.

Even if it was just eating BLTs while sitting on the hood of the Impala parked outside the door to the Bunker.

Dean looked skeptically at the food. The B, L, & T were layered thickly on warm challah rolls. He picked one up and took a careful bite.

"These are good." He said after taking that bite of sandwich. "I didn't think you knew how to cook. Did you learn that from Amelia?"

Sam started at Dean saying her name, but there was no heat in his tone.

"No." Sam answered. "Same as most everything else in my life – I learned it from you."

Dean gave Sam a disbelieving expression at first, but then he smiled and pulled a heavy Ziploc bag from his inside jacket pocket.

"Dessert." He said, laying the bag on the hood next to the food. "Happy Trail Mix Day!"

##

A/N 1: today is my baby's 12th birthday! In 365 days, he'll be a teenager! AAAAHHH!

A/N 2: apologies to so many people for so many things. I'm busy every minute at work, and I seem to be busy every minute at home, so I owe so many people thanks for reviews, and answers to PMs and reviews for their stories. Please bear with me! The Boss has to take a day off eventually! I mean – things have to calm down at home eventually!

A/N repeat: Thank you to everyone who read my original story "Dead Spot" published in Red Fez. I'm the #1 read story of my issue. I beat out the nearest competition three times over. THANK YOU!


	14. September 2nd

September 2nd

Dean was walking into the library from the bedroom hallway first thing in the morning when he thought he heard a little more noise than Sam's usual research called for. It sounded like a drawer opening and closing and a chair squeaking and scraping across the floor like Sam was hurrying out of it and back in again.

When Dean got to the library, though, Sam was in his chair, at his computer, looking like he hadn't moved in hours.

"What's going on?" Dean asked.

"Going on what?" Sam answered, not taking his eyes off of his laptop.

"Sounded like you were rearranging the place."

Sam shrugged and glanced up at Dean. "I had to get a book out of the drawer." He gestured to the monolith on the table near him. He added with a friendly snark, "Too much noise for you, Sleeping Beauty?"

Dean only grumbled a reply and turned to head to the kitchen for breakfast. But something caught his eyes. Or rather – didn't.

"Where's my computer? I left it on the table last night."

"I haven't seen it." Sam said. He looked over the table. "Did you leave it in the map room?"

"No." Dean took a few steps in that direction anyway, but it wasn't there. "You haven't seen it?"

"No."

Sam looked innocent, totally innocent. Totally, perfectly, innocent. Too innocent. So Dean shrugged like it didn't matter and faked a half turn away and saw Sam's eyes cut over to the cupboard along the wall to his right.

"Something you wanna tell me, Sammy?" Dean asked and Sam's face got that expression – jaw set in anger, mouth set in a slight pout – that he'd had since he was three whenever he couldn't figure out how Dean had figured him out. He sighed and retrieved Dean's laptop from the middle drawer of the cupboard.

"Here."

"'Here'?" Dean asked, when Sam took his chair again and didn't say anything else. "That's all I'm getting from you? 'Here'?"

"Yeah. 'Here'. What else do you want?"

"How about why you hid it in the first place?"

Sam swallowed and gestured and seemed to be trying to think of what to say. His expression lost the anger but not the pout.

"National Day Of." He said. Like that was the whole answer.

"What about it?"

"I just – I thought – today – maybe – we could – not – celebrate – it."

"We don't have to celebrate it." Dean said. The way Sam was stammering, the way he was looking at Dean like this was something terrible, worried Dean. "It's not like we celebrate it every day, anyway. Today's Labor Day. We can celebrate that. Or nothing. It doesn't matter."

Sam nodded.

"Yeah. Okay. Thanks."

Dean set his computer on the table and considered Sam who was staring at his computer screen again.

"So…" He said, dragging the word out. "What specific National Day Of are we not celebrating today?"

A loud sigh and a pretty hard scrub at his eyes preceded Sam's answer.

"National Beheading Day."

That answer surprised Dean. He was expecting National Clown Day, or National Happy Day, or National Use Spit to Wipe Something off Your Little Brother's Face in Public Day, or _something_ that was patently guaranteed to annoy Sam. But this?

"Beheading?" Dean asked. "Who the hell – _why_ the hell is this national beheading day? Who the hell got beheaded today? Marie Antoinette?"

"No." Sam said. He rested his head in his hand. "October 16th."

"Anne Boleyn?"

"May 19th."

Dean tried to think of some other names to suggest but that would only delay the answer to his real question.

"Why didn't you want to celebrate?"

"I didn't want – I thought – " Sam scrubbed his face and gestured to his computer. "I wanted to. I was looking for something we could hunt, something you could –" He bit off that sentence. He started again, slower. "Then I thought - I didn't want you to think - I was – "

While Sam stammered on, Dean sat back against the table next to him and folded his arms.

"Sammy?"

"You killed Benny to save me." Sam spat out then, like he was trying to get the words out as fast as he could. "You cut his head off. I didn't want you to think I was forgetting that, or belittling it. Because I'm not. I wouldn't."

"Okay." Dean said. Sounded like an honest and plausible answer. "So, why hide _my_ computer?"

"I didn't want you to be reminded of having to kill Benny. I know you check first thing every day and I just – I thought that would remind you of Benny."

Dean didn't say anything. He didn't think about Benny a lot. There were a lot of things that Dean didn't think about a lot, basically because he'd trained himself how to not think about things. But sometimes the memories jumped up out of nowhere and hung on tight. And National Beheading Day would've been one of those times that Benny's death reignited in Dean's mind.

He stood up and clapped Sam on the shoulder, his _thank you_ unspoken but wholehearted.

"All right. New day. From now on, we celebrate 'National Day of No National Day of…' whenever we feel like it. Deal?"

Sam smiled. Deep and dimpled and totally devoted to his awesome big brother.

"Yeah. Deal."

"Great. I'm going to get myself some breakfast."

"Okay."

Dean headed to the kitchen but stopped at the door that led to the stairs and looked back at his little brother whose shoulders seemed to lost six inches of stress. As far as Dean was concerned, every day was National Sammy Day.

##

A/N repeat: Thank you to everyone who read my original story "Dead Spot" published in Red Fez. I'm the #1 read story of my issue. I beat out the nearest competition three times over. THANK YOU!


	15. September 9th

September 9th

Dean came into the bunker from a beer run and smelled something cooking. More than just something, it smelled like something delicious.

First he was puzzled - Sam was cooking? Sam never cooked.

Then he was happy - Sam was cooking. Finally, the kid was showing interest in something outside of research.

Then he was worried - Sam was cooking _what?_ It might involve some payback for the sea of stuffed animals Sam had awakened to this morning in honor of "National Teddy Bear Day."

Deciding to brave the possibilities of retribution, Dean headed to the kitchen to put the beer in the fridge and find out what fate awaited him.

There, in the kitchen, Sam and Cas huddled over a book on the counter next to the stove, discussing something like they were planning a vampire nest invasion.

"Hey, what's up?" Dean asked, trying not to sound suspicious.

"Hey!" Sam answered immediately, sounding either immensely happy to see Dean, or immensely sure he was about to get caught doing something he ought not to be doing. "We're cooking!"

"Cooking what?" Dean asked, still not sure he wasn't about to be pranked. He looked at Cas, but Cas's flat expression wasn't giving anything away.

Sam lifted the book and showed the page to Dean.

"Happy Wiener Schnitzel Day!"

Okay, by now, Dean was thoroughly convinced someone had slipped Sam some happy pills. Dean liked to eat, but even he wasn't getting tingly over wiener schnitzel. But he couldn't disappoint Sam with indifference, not when Sammy was giving him his patented little brother _'I did good, didn't I_?!' face.

"Sounds good." He said, instead. "You must've been planning this for a while."

"Actually," Cas finally joined in. "He phoned me early this morning and asked if I'd get the necessary ingredients."

"This morning, hunh?" Dean tried to get a look into the stove. "You're not cooking teddy bears in there, are you?"

"Ha, no. Cas took those to the homeless shelter in town. They were happy to get them. C'mon, dinner's almost ready."

They had an actually very good dinner, once Cas was done explaining how he'd chosen pork instead of veal and all the reasons why, and then all the reasons it didn't make any difference. Dean didn't think he'd ever eaten wiener schnitzel in his life, but he had to say that Sammy's version was pretty darn good.

After dinner, Sam said he wanted to go to the local Tasty Freeze and get ice cream for dessert.

"We've got ice cream in the freezer." Dean reminded him. "You want to go out?"

"Yeah. There's one more National Day Of I want to celebrate. We have to go out to celebrate it."

With a good dinner and good beer under his belt and feeling happy that Sam was feeling happy, Dean gave in.

"All right?"

"Really? You want to celebrate one more National Day Of?" Sam asked, sounding even more happy.

"Sure. Why not?" Dean said.

And almost instantly regretted it.

"Great! We have to wear these."

Sam shoved something soft and knitted into his hands. It was a hat. Dean looked up at Sam to ask what the hell, but the sight that greeted him stunned him into silence.

Cas was wearing a knit hat that'd been fitted out with angel wings and a halo. Sam was wearing a similar hat fitted out with small knitted moose antlers.

"It's Wonderful Weirdoes Day!" Sam announced. "Everybody celebrating gets a free sundae down at the Tasty Freeze!"

Maybe someone had dosed Sammy with happy pills. Maybe someday Cas could be counted on to side with Dean in celebrating - or not - these National Days Of.

Dean looked at his own hat - a knitted gray hat with a fake squirrel tale attached.

And maybe wearing a squirrel hat out in public wasn't the most ridiculous thing he'd ever done for his little brother.

"All right." He said and pulled that on. "Let's go."

##

The End


	16. September 18th

September 18th

Sam wasn't drunk. He wasn't on any high end painkillers. Dean hadn't died, or come close to dying. They hadn't won the mega-lottery. They weren't in danger of freezing to death.

So why was Dean standing in the middle of the bunker kitchen being suffocated in one of Sam's _'can't hold on tight enough'_ hugs?

Yeah, they'd been on a hunt. Harder than usual, but not the hardest they'd ever been on, not by a long shot. It'd been a perfect storm of ghost, poltergeist and possession and it'd taken a week of twenty-hour days full of research, work, more work, bad food, and some pretty short fuses until it was done.

Okay, so Dean had been grazed by a two by four when he pushed Sam out of its path and that'd gotten him five hours of alternating whining, crabbing, and silence as Sam vented his anger, fear, and frustration on Dean on the drive home.

"I'm not twelve anymore," he snarled during one of the alternating periods of crabbing. Or maybe it was whining. "I'm not even _twenty_ anymore, Dean. I'm _thirty_. You don't have to jump to my rescue every single time. Two inches to the right and you'd be bleeding your brains out of your ears."

To which Dean replied,

"Are you mad because I saved you? Or because you needed saving?"

Which got him a nice hour or so of fuming silence that lasted until they got to the bunker and each had a shower and were back out in the library and Dean said he was making cheeseburgers for lunch, all the while wondering what he'd ever done to deserve such a crabby little brother.

Sam'd given him a strange puzzled look as he headed for the kitchen but since Dean figured it was some evolution of whining and crabbing, he ignored it and got started cooking. The burgers weren't even on the stove to cook yet when Sam appeared in the kitchen and grabbed Dean in a hug.

So here they were.

No drunk, no drugs, no death; so no clue what was going on.

"Sam? What? What - what happened?" Dean asked as he returned the hug with only slightly less force. "C'mon, Sammy. What? Tell me."

It took a minute of Sam getting his voice under control, Dean could tell and that worried Dean.

"It's Cheeseburger Day." Sam finally managed to say and Dean _really_ worried, because Sammy wasn't being facetious or playing a joke or anything but deadly serious.

"Yeah." Dean said. "National Cheeseburger Day. That's why we're having cheeseburgers for lunch. Why? What - what's that got to do with this?"

Sam finally stood back; he looked like maybe he finally realized he was freaking Dean out or just not giving him enough information.

"Today's September 18th." He said. "I didn't realize that until you mentioned the cheeseburgers." And when Dean still didn't get it, he added, "Five years ago today you came back from hell."

Dean didn't know what to say to that. Sometimes it seemed like forever ago and sometimes it seemed like yesterday.

"Yeah, yeah, I guess it is." He said.

"I just - just - " Sam gestured like he thought he had to explain further why he'd been hugging Dean. But he gave up. "I'll let you get back to cooking. Smells good." And he fled back upstairs.

Dean got back to cooking, wondering what he'd ever done to deserve such a terrific little brother.

##

A/N 1: when Dean got out of hell, the newspaper he picked up had the date "September 18th, 2008" on it.

A/N 2: despite the 2 separate occasions of 1 year spent apart, Abaddon said the year was (still) 2013, which is when this story takes place.

.


	17. September 22

September 22nd

"Excuse me?" Dean asked, sure he couldn't have heard correctly. With Sam's sore throat, slight fever, laryngitis and entertainingly cracking voice, Dean couldn't have heard him correctly.

Sam smiled and said it again.

"I said it's 'National Car Free Day'."

"I heard you the first time." Dean said. He glowered at Sam, hands on his hips. The 'big galoot' had the car keys easily and infuriatingly held out of Dean's reach over his head. Whose idea was it to celebrate these days anyway?

Okay, so Dean knew it was his idea most of the time, and he usually encouraged – even enjoyed – Sam enjoying them, too. Just this minute, for Sam's sake, Dean had been planning to celebrate –

Just like that, Dean had his strategy. He threw his hands up in surrender.

"Fine. We'll celebrate. It's just too bad that it means we can't celebrate National Day of – well, never mind. 'No Car Day' it is."

He turned and started to walk away. Behind him, he heard Sam following.

"What day?" Sam asked, in his raw, cracking, voice.

"No, never mind. We can celebrate it next year. This year, we'll celebrate what you want."

"What? Celebrate what next year, Dean? What other day is today?"

Dean turned and made a show of patting Sam's arm.

"No, it's okay. You don't feel good anyway. You should go back to bed."

"Dean? C'mon – just – just tell me. What were you going to celebrate?"

With a great sigh, Dean shrugged and shook his head like it was a terrible shame.

"National Ice Cream Cone Day. We're out of ice cream and there's nowhere close enough to walk to. So – we'll celebrate next year. It's okay."

He turned away again and counted the few seconds it took until he heard the car keys jingling as Sam must've been considering handing them back over.

"Well…ice cream would make my throat feel better…" Sam allowed.

"But it would mean not celebrating 'No Car Day'."

Sam shrugged and held the keys out to Dean.

"I think we should celebrate Ice Cream Day."

Dean grinned and took the keys.

"I think so, too. C'mon." They headed for the door and the car. "When we get back, we can celebrate 'No Car Evening…'

##

##

A/N repeat: Thank you to everyone who read my original story "Dead Spot" published in Red Fez. I'm the #1 read story of my issue. I beat out the nearest competition three times over. THANK YOU!


	18. October 1st

October 1st

"National Fire Pup Day?" Sam asked. "That's all that today is? Are you sure?"

"Yep, sure. Checked it twice."

"Hunh. There's usually two or three days on a day."

"Yeah, well…" Dean said and let it hang there. "Okay, here we go." He pulled into an empty space on the crowded grass field that was serving as the parking lot for the Wilson Volunteer Fire Department Field Days.

They got out of the car and headed for the tents and rides and activity.

"And we really came all this way just to see some Dalmatians?" Sam asked.

"Unless you know some other way to celebrate."

"You don't even like dogs."

"_Fire Pups_, Sam." Dean said, like that was the final and only answer. "_Fire Pups_."

Sam sighed and groaned and followed along with Dean through the crowds, hoping 'Fire Pups' wasn't a Dean-ism for hot babes.

But no, halfway across the grounds, between the vintage fire engine display and the corral of Clydesdale horses, there was a fenced-in area of Dalmatian puppies, each one cuter than the last.

"See?" Dean said with some pride, as though he knew Sam had been doubting him. "Told you."

Sam shrugged his agreement and reached down to a hopeful little puppy stretched up against the fence on its tiny back legs, eager for a thumb to gnaw with its tiny little teeth.

"Hunh?" Dean asked as Sam drew a crowd of happy, searching puppies to himself without even trying. "Didn't I tell you that you'd like this?"

"Yes, Dean." Sam answered patiently, but he was enjoying the furry, spitty attention of the puppies.

"Good. After Puppyville, we're going to get some barbecue, maybe go on some rides, hey – I bet we could win all the prizes at the arcade. Maybe they even have a 'shoot the clown in the face' game you could play."

"Dean –"

"All right, I'll shoot it for you. But I get to choose the prize if I do."

Sam sighed again, and rolled his eyes and started to offer his fingers to another batch of puppies when he caught sight of a woman walking towards them. She was young and blonde and pretty, and so she immediately reminded him of Jessica. She was carrying a tray of something in her hands and when Dean got in her path, blocking her from Sam, he knew what she was carrying before she even announced it.

"Happy National Baked Cookie Day! Would you like to try a chocolate chip cookie?"

"Love to, sweetheart," Dean said smoothly. "But no. Gluten allergies. Sorry."

"You sure? Okay." And she moved off again, to the next knot of people.

Sam straightened up, giving Dean a knowing look.

"Thanks."

"I was kind of hoping we'd avoid it entirely coming here. What with the Fire Pups and everything."

"It doesn't – bother – me – much – anymore." Sam said, slowly, like he had to think of each word as he said it. "I appreciate you trying."

"Yeah." Dean shrugged. He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, looking like he was embarrassed.

"So –" Sam went on. "Is it too early for cheeseburgers, you think?"

That made Dean smile.

"Never. C'mon…"

They headed off for the food tents.

"Be sure to wash your hands first." Dean said. "Cheeseburgers don't go with puppy spit."

##


	19. October 2nd

**October 2nd**

"Aurelia?"

"No."

"Bertha?"

"No."

"How about - oh - ha - how about Chastity?" Sam asked, smirk firmly in place. Dean glared at him.

"_No."_

Sam snickered and kept going down the list of women's names. Dean was putting groceries into the fridge. Sam was sitting against the table, purposely annoying him. Castiel had just walked into the kitchen and listened to the exchange.

"Eugenia? Flordia? Hazel?"

"No. No. And _no_."

"Oooohhhh - how about Jezebel?"

"Now you're just insulting her." Dean said.

"Myra? Octavia? Wilhemina? Wait - I've got it - Stella. Then whenever it rains, you can stand next to her yelling '_Stella!'_"

The angry glare Dean shot Sam then should've started him on fire.

"Hey, that's a classic movie." Sam defended, not even trying to hide his grin. "I thought you'd want to name her after a classic."

"What're you arguing about?" Cas asked.

"Just trying to get Dean into the spirit of the day." Sam said.

"I _am_ in the spirit of the day." Dean growled.

"What is it National Day Of?" Cas asked.

"National Name Your Car Day." Sam said.

Dean slammed the door on the ancient refrigerator.

"Baby she is, and Baby she stays."

##


	20. October 4th

**October 4th**

A hard but ultimately successful hunt had both Winchesters bruised, broken and totally exhausted. Instead of gathering at the bunker library table, as was their wont, Cas found them in the 'lounge'. They were each sunk deep into a leather upholstered club chair, feet up on a common footstool, eyes closed, heads tipped back. They each seemed to have succumbed to sleep until first Dean and then Sam looked over.

"Cas? Everything OK?" Dean asked.

"I wondered if you would like me to get you some dinner." And then, because he knew the brothers enjoyed celebrating the days, he added, "It's National Taco Day."

Sam tipped his head back again.

"I'm too tired to eat."

"It is also," Cas added, "National Frappé Day."

Dean looked over at Sam like he was going to say something, but then he too tipped his head back again.

"I'm too tired to even make a crack about that."

They were exhausted indeed.

Cas decided to try one more.

"National Vodka Day?"

The vehemence of their simultaneous answer took him by surprise.

_**"Yes, please." **_

He turned and left to get it for them. As he passed through the doorway, Sam called,

"Tacos, too, would be nice."

"And a frappé for Sammy." Dean added.

##

A/N: my recently published story Dead Spot is available as a free Kindle download on Amazon for the next three days.

_**~ May we never forget and never discount our veterans **_~

#


	21. October 29th

October 29th

"Sam?"

"No."

"C'mon."

"No."

Dean stood outside Sam's closed and locked bedroom door, trying to get him to come out.

"_I made oatmeal_…" Dean tried again, wheedling like Sam was three and not thirty. "It's National Oatmeal Day, you know…"

"And it's National Hermit Day; I'm hermiting."

Dean hmpf'd a breath in aggravation.

"You have to come out of your room eventually."

There was no answer to that from behind Sam's door. Probably because to a man who had suffered 180 years of hell, 'eventually' didn't even have to come along this _decade_.

"Fine." Dean finally gave in on a sigh. "I'm sorry, all right? I don't know why you're pissed at me."

That got Sam to rip open his bedroom door.

"An _angel_, Dean? While I was sleeping?"

"It wasn't like I had much time to get it done." Dean complained. "And I wouldn't call that sleeping, Sammy. You were dead to the world."

Sam glared at Dean and then was shoving a life-sized fuzzy stuffed angel out of his room and into Dean's arms.

"I was dead to the world because I was exhausted, Dean. And waking up to this thing lying next to me didn't do me any favors." He went back into his room and slammed the door. He shouted back, "And October 28th was 'plush toy day', not today."

Dean shrugged and considered his stuffed, silent companion.

"C'mon, let's see what National Day tomorrow is…"

##


End file.
